


P.S. I never told you, but I was falling in love

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Not Beta Read, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 06:44:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10588569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zayn leaves the band. Harry does not respond well.Written in April 2015.





	

It’s not a surprise. Not really. Zayn has been unhappy for months. So when he asks them all to come over during the holiday break they know something’s up. He’s honest. Tells them he loves them, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. He can’t keep lying to the fans, to them, to himself. There are tears and hugs and promises that they’ll always be brothers. It’s not like they’ll never see each other. It just won’t be every day. 

`````  
It’s good, he thinks. It’s okay. Really, it is. He’ll be okay. 

Harry wonders how long he has to keep repeating it for it to be true. Because truth be told he’s not okay. Not even close. Not a bit. He thinks he hides it well. The moments when he turns to tell Zayn something are fewer now. He’s stopped walking out of a room to find him. He doesn’t look for him at night any more. His bed is too big. Too cold. It doesn’t smell right. 

But he’s okay. 

He doesn’t see the way the others watch him in those moments when he goes still. When he is so caught up in needing Zayn that he can barely breathe. Chest aching. Eyes burning. They see the tremors, the twitch of his fingers as if he’s reaching out for someone.

They don’t understand. He and Zayn were never a thing. Never more than friends. They weren’t prepared for this.   
He wasn’t prepared for this. 

This ache. This emptiness. 

He’s always cold now. 

He spend hours each night writing text messages and deleting them. Nothing sounds right. Nothing fits. It’s not Zayn’s fault that he’s broken. He didn’t know. And even if he had it wasn't a reason to stay. 

Not if he didn’t feel it too. 

Niall tries talking to him. Suggests writing about it. A song maybe or a letter. Get it out. The hurt and the fear and the pain. 

He’s in California when it happens. He spends days holed up in his house writing. Song after song after song. He sends so many to the others that they become worried, but his phone goes unanswered. Texts are ignored.   
He writes and writes and writes. Purging himself of the grief and heartache. 

Songs aren't working though. He remembers Niall's suggestion. A letter. Yes. Maybe that will work. He opens his email and writes and writes and writes. Pouring his heart and soul in to his words. It's all there. Every moment. Every time he took comfort in Zayn's presence. All the little things he did that held Harry together. He signs it ‘I miss you.’   
It’s not enough though. He has to say it. Get I out. One last line is added ‘P.S. I never told you, but I was falling in love’. 

He falls asleep as his finger presses the send button. 

Exhaustion has finally taken its toll. 

Across the ocean a phone sits on a bureau gathering dust. The screen lights up as it chirps a notification that there’s a new email. The screen falls dark in the silence. Another chirp sounds minutes later. It goes unnoticed. The screen falls dark again. 

 

Back in LA Harry wakes. His body aches from sleeping too soundly for too long. He needs a shower and food. Blearily he makes his way to the bathroom. A hot shower helps. Food does as well. He feels a bit steadier, more alive than he has in a long time.

His brain is trying to remember what happened before he fell asleep. What he did. There was something, he thinks. Something important. He looks at his phone and is stunned to see that he slept for a day and a half.   
His call history and text messages show his friends concern, and his own erratic behavior, but he finds nothing to explain the feeling that he’s forgotten something. 

He texts the guys to let them know he's okay. His phone rings almost immediately, and the four of them have a long overdue conversation. 

Harry tells them everything. How he didn't know it was happening. That he didn't mean to, but he couldn't have stopped it if he tried. He fell in love. 

Niall mentions the songs. How good they are. He wonders if they helped.

Harry admits he barely remembers any of them, and opens his email to pull up the files. That's when he sees it. The email to Zayn. The email that was sent thirty-six hours ago. The email with no reply. 

He has to read it. Has to know what was said, but he doesn’t want the others to know. This is his. 

He tells them that he needs time to read through all the emails he sent. They agree to talk again later that day. 

He ends the call and opens the email to Zayn. The words blur as tears fill his eyes. It’s all there. His love, his soul. 

And Zayn hasn’t replied. 

He has his answer. 

Now that he knows he can move on. Get over it. Right?

Days pass. Meetings are attended. Pap walks taken. Fan service completed. He sees the comments. How tired and gaunt he looks. The speculation that he's sick. That its drugs. That it’s because he misses Zayn. It amuses him that some of the fans saw it. That they knew. That they had figured it out before he did. 

He's at lunch with Jeff and Glenne when he sees the pictures on Twitter. Louis and Liam out with Zayn. Laughing and looking so happy to be together. His breath catches. The pain is intense and overwhelming. The sense of betrayal. He knows it's irrational. He lets the feelings crest and then ebb. 

It's okay. Good even. That they are together. Friends. 

He hopes that someday he and Zayn can be friends again. 

He turns his phone off, pockets it, and gets spectacularly drunk with Jeff. Glenne, gracious as ever, watches over them and keeps them away from all forms if social media.

He doesn’t see the pictures from Heathrow that are posted a few hours later.

```````  
The flight seems to take forever. Liam tries to distract him, keep him occupied. It helps, a bit, but he still wills the plane to fly faster. To get there now. To get him to Harry. He tried calling. After he saw the email. But he didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. No. He needed to see Harry’s face when they talked. 

A call to Liam started it. Now he’s on a plane with three of his best friends. Flying off to find his heart. 

They land and manage to avoid the paparazzi. He hears shouting so he knows they’ve been spotted by fans. He doesn’t care. He just wants to get out and get to Harry’s house. Alberto and Paddy get them settled in the SUV and begin the last leg of this journey. It’s another hour before they pull up to the gate. Preston enters the code and pulls up to the front door. 

Zayn’s scared. He’s never been so scared in his life. What if Harry doesn’t feel the same way anymore?   
He hears the others wish him luck as they pull away. ‘You need time together’ they all said. ‘Time alone.’   
He’s alone now. 

Standing in front of the door, and trying to find the courage to press the damn doorbell. 

```````  
Harry wakes with his head hanging over the bed. He’s fully dressed and feels like he’s been run over by a lorry. Twice.

He contemplates staying in bed and stewing in his sorrow, but the need to pee and eat overrule him. An hour later after he’s bathed and eaten he goes in search of his phone. He finds it on his desk with a note from Glenne suggesting he check twitter or tumblr. 

He’s just opened twitter when his doorbell rings. Frowning, he pockets his phone and walks to the door. 

He opens the door and he swears he’s having a hallucination. There’s no other logical explanation for why Zayn would be standing on his front steps.

Zayn smiles. He’s nervous, but determined. He steps forward until he’s inches away from Harry. 

Harry is stunned. Zayn. Is here. In LA. Standing in front of him.

‘Hi,” he whispers.

Zayn smiles, “Hi. Me too. I was falling in love too.”

Harry doesn't think, he reaches forward and pulls Zayn in to the house. He's smiling as he shuts the door. As its closing they hear the faint sound of cheering, and Louis’ distinctive voice yelling, “Get it, lads!”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, not sure what this was all about. It's been sitting in a folder since I wrote it.


End file.
